


Peace

by temporaryistemporary



Series: a chosen family [3]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Child Neglect, Hurt/Comfort, I also want to stress that everything in this is platonic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Ghostbur - Freeform, Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Other Characters Are Mentioned, Protective Wilbur Soot, Redemption, Resurrection, They/Them Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), They’re just not as involved in the plot right now so I didn’t tag them, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, and fuck techno for siding with him, character Phil is not a good dad, fuck character dream, hes fixing it, hes just a family friend, i want to put ghlatt in this but I don’t know how, neither is Wilbur but he’s trying, techno is not related, this story is about the characters not the people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporaryistemporary/pseuds/temporaryistemporary
Summary: Wilbur is resurrected and he has a lot to do and a lot to make up for.
Relationships: Eret & Floris | Fundy, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: a chosen family [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119869
Comments: 50
Kudos: 793
Collections: Cheshire's MCYT recs!, Completed stories I've read





	1. if only for a moment

It was odd. Having Wilbur back.

He wasn’t the same man who blew up L’mandburg, but he wasn’t like his ghostly self either. He was different in a way that the remaining citizens hadn’t witnessed before.

Wilbur rarely talked at first, and when he did they were short, choppy bursts of thought, like he was thinking out loud without meaning to, and only in answer to direct questions. The first day, he hadn’t spoken at all, only short hums and nods in response to Phil’s questioning until the man stopped asking him anything. Phil had left later that night, barely another word spoken towards his eldest son as he headed back to Techno’s base.

Wilbur wrote more. Even more than he had during the revolution, especially more than he had during exile. It was rare to see him walking around Eret’s castle (the Royal had insisted he stay once Phil needed to return to the Arctic, almost as if they could feel his hesistence in going anywhere with the man who had killed him and then subsequently brought him back) without a notebook and quill, scribbling things that neither Eret nor Fundy (the only other inhabitants of the castle) had the opportunity to read yet. He had already filled up two books. He had only been back for less than three days.

Wilbur had also gone through a sort of personality shift. Whereas in Pogtopia he had been paranoid and aggressive, speaking in loud bursts of irrational ramblings and eyeing everything and everyone in quiet distrust; now he was calm, quiet, and reminiscent. Almost more ghost-like than Ghostbur had been. Eret had caught him more than once looking out the windows towards the remains of L’Manburg, a furrow in his brow. Fundy had actually witnessed him sitting out in the ruins themselves, a book and quill in his hands and face down turned and obscured by hair.

The others had visited once, “the others” having included Quackity, Sapnap, & Jack Manifold, anyone else having been involved in Doomsday deciding to keep to themselves or just wholly unsure of their standing with the recently revived revolutionist. They had been rather unnerved by the one-eighty Wilbur seemed to have taken since the last time he had been alive. They hadn’t stayed for very long, but promised to return again and, at Wilbur’s inquiries after Tubbo and (more insistently) Tommy, had agreed to attempt to bring the two youngest back with them.

All in all the entirety of Wilbur’s stay in Eret’s castle, while bizarre, had been pretty uneventful so far. It was a surprise to the Royal that the man had even accepted the request to stay without so much as a snide remark. In fact, Wilbur had been rather kind to them, exchanging small pleasantries in passing hallways and smiling at jokes during breakfast and dinner. It was, in Eret’s opinion, the most startling change from the old Wilbur. They had assumed that Wilbur would avoid them, would only willingly converse with Fundy (and he had spoken with Fundy many times, Eret even finding them both asleep late one night in the sitting room, Wilbur with his arm thrown around Fundy, the fox’s head laying on his fathers chest, drying tears on both their faces) and only with Eret when he had to. That quickly turned out to be false and the two spent many nights in the library talking about things that Wilbur had missed, his memories from Ghostbur having not fully transferred over. And, on a late night as both sat at the library balcony and watched the stars, Wilbur had even quietly thanked him before heading to bed without another word. For what, Eret hadn’t figured out until that morning as they walked in late to breakfast seeing Wilbur conversing with Fundy across the table, a small smile on both their faces and an adoring look in Wilburs eyes. A gentle understanding had replaced the roaring confusion and Eret smiled and joined them at the table.

It would only take one more day for all that peace to go to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter is an intro of sorts to get the story rolling, the other chapters will most likely be longer than this one. i just wanted to get a few things out there before the initial story begins, like “where is everyone?” or “where is Wilbur staying and why?” or “why does this Wilbur act different to Alivebur?” so that’s mostly what this chapter is, just kind of how he’s currently doing right after his resurrection  
> if there’s any questions, as long as it’s not related to later plot points, im happy to answer :)


	2. but not for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A guest arrives for a serious talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING*  
> I want to make a quick note here that a majority of this chapter is a very heated argument between Wilbur and Phil and contains talk of child neglect and kind of child abandonment  
> I just wanted to put that out there in case that’s a problem for some people to read
> 
> Also, italics here are used to express yelling or extreme emotion, mostly because i didn’t want to have caps lock on for most of this chapter

It was almost dinner when Eret received a message from Quackity, telling them he had talked to Tommy and Tubbo and they would be headed to the castle in the morning to see Wilbur. Eret was relieved. Ever since Quackity’s first visit, Wilbur had taken to pacing in the garden, reading and rereading the first notebook Wilbur had begun just after waking up. Eret had no idea what was in it but they caught the name of Wilbur’s younger brother written in it several times over when they would come to bring him in for food.

When they broke the news, Wilbur had looked both apprehensive and hopeful while Fundy’s ears had flicked downwards just slightly, neither looking up from their food. It was a tense atmosphere that night, everyone going to bed early in preparation for the next day.

The next morning was greeted with both Eret and Fundy already in the dining room, the fox rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Wilbur came in later than normal but it was obvious from his rumpled clothing, the clothes he had been wearing in Pogtopia having been traded for a soft tan sweater and some dark trousers with a beanie sometimes thrown over his mess of hair, and the bags under his eyes darker than ever that he had gotten little to sleep the night before. Not mentioning when Eret had done their nightly rounds of the castle, too much energy buzzing in their veins, they had seen a soft light under the doorway of the room Wilbur had been staying in, like a candle one would light if they were reading before bed.

They ate in comfortable silence for a bit, all too weary for any semblance of conversation but awake enough to just enjoy the company of each other. Before long breakfast had finished and they had all begun cleaning their messes when a loud ringing had pierced through the castle.

“That must be them,” Eret spoke quietly, reluctant to breach the comfortable atmosphere that hadn’t been present the previous night. “I’ll go-“

“I’ve got it.” Wilbur interrupted.

Eret stared for a moment, eyeing the man in a way that made him shift unsteadily even with the glasses adorning the Royal’s face.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

With that, Wilbur left the dining room, Fundy staring at his fathers retreating back before shifting to look at Eret, a question in his gaze.

Eret shook their head, already beginning to pick up the dishes that Wilbur left behind and bringing them into the kitchen. “If Wilbur needs us he’ll come get us. For now, this is something he needs to do on his own.”

Fundy nodded slowly, still hesitant, but followed Eret into the kitchen to help clean up. However it wasn’t long before shouting reached their ears, startling them both and it only took a moment to recognize the voice, though unintelligible, as Wilbur’s. Eret hurried out of the kitchen, Fundy following closely behind, prior concerns about interrupting thrown out the window as they hurried to the front entrance, hoping to stop whatever conflict had arisen in case it started to go violent. Wilbur had only just been revived after all, and Eret would be damned if they let him die on their watch, especially after finally being back on good terms with the man.

They had just reached the front door, realizing that Wilbur had met their guest (guests?) out in the courtyard, when they could make out another accented voice shouting back at Wilbur.

“- _to send a message, Wilbur!_ ”

“ _What message?! What was the message? What were we supposed to learn-_ ”

Eret was rounding the corner out the door now, could see Wilbur now, back facing them but hands thrown up and waving about in annoyance. They could see.

“ _-because all I learned was that you don’t give a damn about your children-_ ”

Feathers. Dark, but glossy. Like oil.

“ _-oh wait! I already knew that!_ ”

A blue, elegant, fur trimmed coat. Not practical in the type of weather the SMP had. But perfect for the icy wind of the Arctic.

“ _I did my best!”_

Pin straight blond hair tucked messily under a green bucket hat.

“ _Oh that’s bullshit! If that was your best attempt at parenting-_ ”

Philza.

“ _-I’d hate to see your worst attempt.”_

“Now listen here,” Phil started, but Eret beat him to it.

“ _Hey!_ ”

Both heads whipped around to face Eret and Fundy, who had caught up just enough to finally catch a glimpse of his grandfather.

“Everything alright here?” Eret asked.

Phil seemed to gather himself first, shaking his head slightly, blond hair obscuring his face for only a moment. “Everything is fine, thank you. I’m sorry for the commotion. I just wanted to come by and check up on Wilbur and thank you again for letting him stay here. I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble.”

Eret frowned at that, not liking how Phil was addressing Wilbur as if he was some unruly child. They were aware of Wilbur bristling, arms dropping to his sides to shove his tightly clenched fists into his pockets, eyebrows scrunching up but face otherwise unreadable. Eret looked at him in concern but Wilbur averted his gaze, seemingly wanting to be anywhere but here. They turned back to Phil, seeing Fundy creep around them and towards Wilbur out of the corner of their eye.

“Wilbur’s been doing perfectly fine. I was worried about how he would adjust to suddenly being alive again but he seems to be doing well,” Eret smiled at Wilbur as they spoke, gaining a slight tilt of the mouth in return. Fundy was now standing next to him, side eyeing Phil.

Phil smiled, unaware or uncaring of the negative looks he was getting from his family.

“Good, great! Well,” Phil began, starting to turn towards the exit. “I thank you again for all that you’ve done, and if you ever need help with anything I’m-”

“So that’s it?” Wilbur interrupted. Eret almost winced at the tone.

A pause. Questioning blue eyes meeting steely brown.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re leaving again? You’ve been here for...what? Ten...twenty minutes and you’re leaving again?”

Another pause, the atmosphere becoming more and more tense as the time ticked by.

“Well yes. I’ve got to get back to the base-”

“Techno’s base?”

Phil frowned at the interruption. “Yes, Techno’s base.”

It was silent again, not the good kind like it had been at breakfast. This was heavy, almost suffocating. Eret could see Fundy shifting to stand behind Wilbur instead of next to him. They ached to go over and comfort him, both of them. But now wasn’t the time. They turned back to Phil to bid the man goodbye, if only to end the stifling silence, but paused when they saw something moving near the outer wall.

_Red._

The pause, however, was just long enough for Wilbur to start back up whatever argument had been transpiring before Eret and Fundy had arrived.

“Of course, of course. Run back to Technoblade then. Tell him _your son_ says hello and all that.”

Phil’s eyes narrowed, fully turning back towards Wilbur. “I don’t know what that tone is for, _son_ , but I don’t like it.”

“Good thing I never gave a shit what you liked, _dad._ ”

Wings ruffled, feathers fluffing out in aggravation.

“Wilbur. I don’t know what has gotten into you today but if you have some kind of problem with me then spit it out. Is this because of your death? Because I-“

Wilbur laughed then, loud and cutting and just the right side of manic. “No, no this isn’t about that.” A smile, all teeth and no warmth. “Actually, I think you killing me may have been the one good thing you actually did as a father. So thanks for that at least.”

Phil winced but Wilbur paid him no mind. “My ‘problem’ with you is that the second you get the chance, no matter what the circumstance, you go off adventuring or fighting or whatever-the-fuck with Technoblade and _you leave your own family in the dust._ ”

“Now Wil-”

“ _Don’t you ‘Wil’ me!_ That’s exactly what you do! I’ve only been back for four days now and this is the first time I’ve seen you since you left the night I woke up. And for _Technoblade_! All for your good buddy Technoblade. Why be with your own family when you can lay waste to everything they worked so hard for with your best friend The Blood God, _hm_?”

“ _You blew up L’Manburg first Wilbur!_ Or do you still not remember that?” Phil snapped.

Fundy winced behind Wilbur, having been almost completely forgotten amongst the argument, if not for his fathers hand reaching back towards him in concern, which he gripped tightly in own two furry ones and glanced over at his adoptive parent. Eret stood to the side, unsure of how and when to interject without fanning the flames.

“Oh so that’s the part you focus on, is it?” Wilbur’s voice was cold now, angry but nowhere near as loud as he had been, keenly aware of the presence of his son at his back. “ _I was out of my mind Phil_! What’s your excuse? Was being an absent father not enough for you-”

“Wilbur-” Eret.

“Did you have to one up stabbing me through the heart?”

“Wil-” Fundy.

“Or did you finally remember your other son existed and wanted to have a go at him too?”

 _“Enough!”_ Phil. “ _That is enough, Wilbur_!” Inky feathers spread out as far as they could go. “You will not continue to speak to me like that.” Piercing blue eyes staring straight at him. “I am done with your disrespect.” Disappointed. Always disappointed. “ _I am your father!_ ” Anger. But not from Phil.

“Some father you are then! Disappearing for a majority of our lives only to show up at our worst and kick us while we’re down.”

Eret was slowly making his way over to Wilbur now.

“That is not-” Phil shouted.

“You were never-” Wilbur began.

They stopped, both breathing heavily, before Wilbur cut in again, voice a bit more quiet than before. “You were never there. For us.”

Step closer.

Phil sighed, growing visibly agitated. “I did my best to raise you.” He repeated. “Both you and Tommy.”

“Well your best wasn’t good enough.”

Step closer.

“Son.”

“And you didn’t raise Tommy.”

Step closer.

Wings rippled again, quick and intimidating. “ _Pardon-_ ”

“I did.”

Stop.

Wilbur could feel all eyes in the courtyard on him, even more eyes than were possible for the amount of people, but he didn’t care. “I raised Tommy. Me. By myself. While you were off prancing around with Techno, and adventuring in the Nether, and fighting dragons in the End, I was home with Tommy. You were never there. I was more of a father to Tommy than you ever were.” He could feel a stinging behind his eyes, but he blinked it away. He wouldn’t cry now.

Phil’s wings were drooping now, shaking lightly, but not in an aggressive manner. “Wilbur, I’m sorry you felt that way. You and Tommy are my sons and I love you both dearly. And I’m so sorry if it seemed like I wasn’t around as much as I should’ve been, but I did what I could for the two of you. I raised you both to the best of my ability. I’m sorry if you feel any different.”

Wilbur lied. He might cry, but from frustration rather than sadness.

“And,” Phil continued, gaze shifting to his grandson, “I really don’t think you have the right to question my parenting, seeing how you’ve made just as many, if not more mistakes.”

Wilbur definitely lied. Because that one had hurt. Wilbur knew he was a shit father, he didn’t need it thrown in his face like that, not when he did a good job of reminding himself every day already. A lump had formed in his throat, rendering him unable to speak without the threat of his words turning into sobs. Turns out he didn’t need to because two other voices began shouting in his defence. One much louder than the other.

“How dare you! _How dare you!_ ” Suddenly Fundy was shoving his way past Wilbur, ears down and back, tail swishing in anger, and teeth bared in a snarl. “You’re the one that doesn’t have the right to talk shit. At least Wilbur apologized. And not the half-assed one you’re giving.” Eret was moving forward again, seeing how agitated their adoptive son was getting. “At least he’s trying to be better! All you’re doing is running away. You just got your son back and you’re leaving.”

Eret settled a hand on their son's shoulder, gently nudging him backwards towards his shell shocked father, whispering something into his ear as they passed. Fundy whirled around and began ushering his father back inside the castle, a slow going process as Wilbur kept his eyes focused entirely on Eret, who had their full attention on Phil.

“I think,” the Royal began, straightening their posture and looking every bit as regal as a monarch should, “that it’s time for you to go. I appreciate you checking in, however I believe it’s in yours and Wilbur’s best interest if you do not return for the time being. We’re working on making sure Wilbur’s mental health stays in the realm it should be in and you being here seems to be the opposite of what we need. I will let you know if this changes but for now, I wish you luck on your journey back to the Arctic. Farewell Philza.” Eret folded their hands behind them, waiting for the winged man to depart.

Phil hesitated for only a moment, eyes flickering behind Eret, before bidding the Royal a subdued goodbye, quickly typing something into his communicator and disappearing in a cloud of purple particles a few seconds later.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Eret quickly turned around, meeting Wilbur’s glassy eyes even though the man couldn’t see their own through their glasses. “Of course I did.” Eret could tell Wilbur was about to object so they cut him off before he could. “You have been nothing but kind and good since you came back. You are nothing like you were during the war, and though I didn’t witness much of it I can say with confidence that you are nothing like you were in Pogtopia. You’ve apologized and tried to make things right, and I know that’s what you’ve been waiting for with Tommy and Tubbo and I know that’s why you’ve been so nervous. But you don’t need to be. Because you’ve done so well and Phil had no right to try and turn that around on you when that man can’t get his head out of his own ass long enough to actually admit he’s in the wrong.” Wilbur’s ghost of a smile at that remark encouraged them to continue. “I am so happy that we could be on common ground again and I can’t wait until you fully get back on your feet because you are going to be great Wilbur, I can feel it.” Eret smiled but was almost knocked over by the speed in which Wilbur fell into them, throwing his arms over the Royal in a brief but warm hug.

It only lasted a second or two but it was enough to convey Wilbur’s gratitude. They began to pull away but neither got very far before a fuzzy body squirmed into the hug, Fundy inserting himself directly in the middle for maximum attention. Wilbur snorted at the action, reaching up a hand and roughly messing up the fur on the fox’s head, causing it to stick up in odd directions. Fundy let out a shriek of protest and jumped away from Wilbur, leaning more into Eret’s arms, who squeezed him tight against their chest affectionately and released him. The group all had soft smiles on their faces, the tension slowly fading.

  
  
  
  


_“Wilby?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first time writing this much dialog, I don’t usually write this much talking but this story needs it so...let me know how I did, thanks


	3. is not for heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Tubbo take a trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* once again discussions of child neglect in this chapter, and Tommy also has kind of panic attack later in the chapter but it’s not detailed

They hadn’t been sure what to expect, not really. Wilbur had been so completely out of his mind the last time they had spoken to him. Even when he had attempted to give Tommy the presidency, only to have it passed to Tubbo, they could see it in Wilbur’s eyes. Well, Tommy could see it.

He hadn’t said it then, claiming unfinished business (which wasn’t entirely false, but it wasn’t the full truth either) for not taking the position, but he knew Wilbur had been setting him up for failure. Could see it in the too tight smile, the way he subtly grimaced when Tommy had declined, the tension in his shoulders when he said he would be right back. He had hoped Wilbur would have given up whatever he had been planning the moment Tubbo became the new candidate, but now he realized it didn’t matter what happened, Wilbur would have gone through with it no matter what. He hadn’t known what exactly Wilbur’s plan had been ( _liar_ , a small part of his mind whispered, he ignored it), not until he was suddenly losing his footing and everything he fought for went up in smoke and flames and withers and screaming. _There was so much screaming._

 _Maybe_ , that small tratorious voice whispered again, _if you had tried hard enough you could’ve stopped it._ He ignored it again.

He wasn’t sure what had hurt more though, the burns and cuts from the explosion, or witnessing his own father running his brother through with a sword. Or maybe it was Dream's cutting cackle, one that haunted his nightmares even now, a madman celebrating both the destruction of a country and the death of a possible threat. Or Technoblade’s tale of Theseus, a prediction of things to come, and his taunts to die a hero.

But, Tommy had wanted to scream back at the man (his father’s friend, someone he had looked up to like he looked up to Wilbur), he never wanted to be a hero. He was only _sixteen_ , he didn’t want to die at all.

And then there was quiet for a bit, peace and laughter and happiness and new friends. It didn’t last. It didn’t last because he was _Tommy_ and nothing good in his life ever stayed for long. He was honestly surprised he had gotten that far.

He had burned down George’s house, him and him alone. He refused to allow Ranboo lose his chance at happiness. It had been an accident really, a prank, but the fire had gotten too close to the wood on George’s house and that was the end for him. He shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was about the trial and subsequent banishment. It still hurt. And not just because Dream had roughly shoved him off the obsidian wall. He caught Ranboo’s eyes though as he fell, watching from a safe distance to avoid the conflict. And Tommy smiled at him, a small twitch of the lips but still a smile. He had gotten a small but sad one in return.

Exile was hell. He was alone for the most part. Dream would show up to destroy his shit, terrorize him a bit and then leave. Ranboo would show up sometimes, they traded letters like pen pals. Ghostbur was there at first, but quietly disappeared one day and hadn’t returned. A few others visited, but only briefly. The beach party came and went with Dream as his only guest (the word being very loosely used as Tommy hadn’t invited the man, would’ve rather spent his time alone than with the eyes of that damned mask watching him). Dream had found his secret chests and Tommy watched as his only remaining friend(?) blew up all of his valuables and then the rest of Logstedshire.

Tommy still wasn’t sure which exile was worse. Being alone and having to re-do any progress every time that green bastard visited, or sitting in a trench and watching the only family that gave a shit about him lose his damn mind piece by painful piece.

Staying with Techno hadn’t been so bad. Sure, Tommy had nightmares sometimes, would wake up in the cold self-made basement muffling his own screaming in his hands, only to forget what the nightmare had been about a few seconds later. At least it was better than waking up in the ocean, clothes drenched for hours after he finally got to strength to pull his body back to shore. He was more careful around the pig hybrid too, still making teasing remarks but stopping the second he sensed any amount of aggression from Techno, not wanting to aggro the man into making good on his threats from the war. Techno had seemed confused at first but ultimately ignored the odd behavior. That truce hadn’t lasted either.

L’mandberg was gone, well and truly gone. There was no coming back from that crater. Fuck, did it make his chest hurt. The last thing he had to remind him of his brother, when he was alive and sane and still _Wilby_. Gone. Destroyed by his own father and someone he considered a friend once and that green _rat bastard_.

He was so numb when Tubbo had pulled him away from the wreckage, once Doomsday had ended and they had to find a new place to stay. He was out of it for a while, simply existing from day to day, only really coming out of it when Quackity had visited out of the blue one day.

Wilbur had been asking after them. _Wilbur_ not Ghostbur. They had done it, they had brought his brother back. Tommy wanted nothing more than to take Tubbo and run as fast as he could to Eret’s castle ( _why the fuck was Wilbur there of all places?_ ), but he hesitated. His brother was back and Tommy didn’t know if he wanted to see him.

He was scared.

Quackity was surprised when the boys had asked for some time to think but had left without a fight, asking them to message him when they were ready. They camped out under the stars that night, Tommy quietly whispering his doubts and Tubbo reassuring him and whispering his own, both keenly aware of their patchwork of scars (mental and physical).

They spent the next morning and afternoon quietly farming and enjoying the calm before the inevitable storm. A message was sent late in the day and a meeting scheduled for the following morning. Another night spent watching the stars.

So out of all of the things Tommy and Tubbo had been expecting upon arriving at Eret’s castle with Big Q in tow, it certainly hadn’t been a set of familiar wings. Tommy had only just peeked around the corner of the outer wall, catching a glimpse of the shadowy wings, before lurching back around for cover when the shouting started. Instinct taking over and yelling at him to _run run run they were loud and loud meant angry and angry meant pain pain from the man in the mask run runrunrunru-_

Two hands on his arms stopped him in place and Tommy opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to meet the concerned blue ones of his friend.

“Tommy?” Tubbo was staring up at him. “Why don’t we wait here until they’re done, ok? We can just sit here and wait ‘til Phil leaves, yeah?”

Tommy could do nothing but nod shakily, trying to keep his hands steady as he put one on the cobble wall for support and lowered himself to the ground. Tubbo did the same but Quackity breezed past them to stand near the entrance, close enough to just barely peek in but not enough to be noticed. They were still yelling.

 _“-leave your family in the dust!”_ That was Wilbur, without the echo and the softness and sadness that he attributed to Ghostbur. Now his brother’s words were coated in sorrow and anger and grief. Sharp as a diamond sword and just as deadly.

Tommy was not ready for this. He wasn’t. Wilbur was yelling at their father, he was so angry. And if he was angry enough to yell at Phil, he was going to be _pissed_ at Tommy. Tommy, who ruined every damn thing he was a part of, who pissed people off to the point of them wanting him gone and out of the picture, who couldn’t do anything without anyone else around or he’d just deteriorate like he did at Logstedshire. Wilbur was going to hate him, he probably already did and-

_“-did you finally remember your other son existed and wanted to have a go at him too?”_

What? Tommy blearily lifted his head, his scalp aching from where he had grabbed fist fills of hair and pulled until Tubbo had grabbed Tommy’s clenched fists in his own shaking ones. Tubbo was staring at him again, both the boys eyes shining in confusion at Wilbur’s outburst. Quackity had stood up straight as a board, still swaying towards the entrance. All three winced at the shrill retort from Phil, immediately accompanied by Wilbur’s rage filled response.

Was Wilbur defending him? To their father, no less. What in the hell?

_“You were never there. For us.”_

Tommy felt tears build up in his eyes. Tubbo’s eyes also shining.

 _“-you didn’t raise Tommy.”_ Fuck. _“I did.”_ Shit.

Tommy was definitely crying now, a hand snaking up to muffle any sobs as Tubbo wrapped his arms around him, a wet spot already forming on his shoulder.

_“I was more of a father to Tommy than you ever were.”_

Tommy wanted that to be false. He wanted desperately to say, will full honestly, that Phil had been a good dad and done everything he could for them. But Tommy wasn’t a very good liar. Just like Phil hadn’t been a very good dad. Sure, when he was home he would cook for them, he’d bring them back small trinkets from far away villages and realms. But those moments were few and far between.

Most of Tommy’s memories growing up had been of his big brother. Making a mess of the kitchen with flour while trying to make cookies with Wilbur. Shrieking in delight when Wilbur would toss him into snow piles. Getting his first real sword with some extra money Wilbur had saved up. Going to the market with Wilbur and getting to pick out whatever treat he wanted. Wilbur steadying his hand as he taught him how to shoot a bow. Listening to Wilbur strum his guitar and sing him to sleep on late nights. Leaving home for good with his brother because he didn’t want to be alone in an empty house. It was all Wilbur, with only the occasional memories of Phil popping in for a short time only to leave again with barely a goodbye.

Which is why he snapped out of it at Phil’s next words.

_“I really don’t think you have the right to question my parenting, seeing how you’ve made just as many, if not more mistakes.”_

Tommy shot to his feet almost instantly, roughly scrubbing his face dry with his sleeves. How dare he? _How dare he?_

“Tommy?” Tubbo scrambled to his feet as well, staring at the back of the familiar red and white shirt.

Another pair of hands grabbed his arms again before he could rush into the courtyard, having fully intended to give Phil a piece of his mind, and maybe even a fist to the face. Brown eyes met blue as Quackity held him away from the entrance. More yelling could be heard, this time the voice recognizable as Tommy’s nephew. Tommy attempted to shake Quackity off but was held fast by the man.

“Tommy, Tommy listen to me.” Eyes met again. Tommy’s own roaring fury to Quackity’s more subdued rage. “You can’t just run in there. Eret and Fundy are in there, they’re handling it.” Tommy scoffed and only received a light shake in response. “They’re handling it, ok? You and Phil aren’t on great terms right now alright. We don’t know if he’s still allied with Dream.” A wince from both kids. “So just stay here until he leaves, please.”

Tommy continued to stare for a moment, posture still tense and ready to fight, before the fire in his eyes died down a bit and his shoulders dropped in resignation. Quackity let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

A shrug. “Whatever Big Q.”

It was then he realized how quiet the voices inside the courtyard had gotten, and he strained to hear what was being said, picking up Eret’s voice floating through the air, low and calm but still commanding, having a bit of on edge to it.

_“-you being here seems to be the opposite of what we need. I will let you know if this changes but for now, I wish you luck on your journey back to the Arctic. Farewell Philza.”_

Holy shit. A grin spread across Tommy’s face and he looked back at Tubbo who had a look of astonishment on his face. Eret, in their weird Royal speak, had basically just finished telling Phil to politely fuck off. Even Big Q was trying to hold back his laughter. Holy shit.

There was the telltale sound of an ender pearl being used and then more muffled speaking, this time being too quiet to pick up. Phil must’ve left. At that, it was like the fight had left Tommy and collapsed to his knees, a few spare tears slipping down his face. Tubbo sat kneeled down in front of him, a hand grabbing his and a strained smile on his face.

“You alright, Big Man?”

A soft laugh bubbled out of mouth. “Never better, Big T.” Tubbo stood and used the hand that was in his to pull Tommy back to his feet. A ghost of a smile spread across Tommy’s face. “Let’s go annoy Wilbur, yeah? We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for with that bitch.” Tubbo snorted and nodded, tugging him along through the outer wall entrance and into the courtyard, Quackity silently following.

They were greeted with Eret and Fundy, both facing away and standing just outside the castle entrance seemingly lost in their own world and not noticing their new visitors. But Tommy wasn’t paying attention to them either. He was focused on the man they were facing, almost collapsing again at the sight of his now living brother. His skin wasn’t grey anymore and eyes were bright and hair full of color again. And it may not make sense but Tommy hadn’t realized exactly how much he had missed his brother until that exact moment. Sure, Ghostbur had been there, following him like a fucking puppy but it wasn’t the same.

That hadn’t been his brother, not really. It hadn’t been the same brother he had grown up with. It hadn’t been Wilbur. It hadn’t been-

_“Wilby?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished writing this right as Eret started their stream and I panicked
> 
> MY BOY IS GETTING RESURRECTED TODAY POG


	4. in rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy finally gets to rest and Fundy just wants everything to be ok

For the first time since he didn’t know when, Tommy felt like a kid again. Long arms securely wrapped around him, a hand tangled in the hair on the back of his head, face pressed into his brother's shoulder. He felt like a child.

Tommy could remember being six, wandering a little too far from the village Wilbur had brought him to, trying to follow a cow he had spotted. He had just wanted to pet it. The animal had kept straying further and further from the village, through hastily scattered trees, in search of a better grazing area. Tommy had loved cows, still did, and he followed it until the creature had stooped to nibble on a particularly thick patch of grass, allowing him time to carefully approach and smoothing a hand across the cows side. The animal barely gave him a glance, too busy with its meal, but Tommy didn’t care, too in awe of being able to touch the animal. Only when Tommy was content with the amount of pets given to the cow, did he realize that he had no idea where he was. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he had been walking, too focused on the stray farm animal, and now Tommy was completely lost. Tears had prickled in his eyes but only a few had escaped before he saw his big brother rushing up to him, scooping him up in warm arms and petting his hair, murmuring about how worried he had been and begged Tommy to never, _ever_ , wander off again. And Tommy, tired from his adventure and near panic, only nodded into Wilbur’s shoulder.

Tommy really hadn’t changed much since then. He still loved cows, he still had a penchant to wander off if something caught his eye, and he still sought comfort and safety in the arms of his brother. The arms wrapped tightly around him, like he would disappear at any second, proved that.

“-my...Tommy...Toms.” A voice drifted in and out of Tommy’s focus, not quite calling him back but simply repeating his name in wistful bursts.

He could feel his body swaying in the embrace, Wilbur rocking them from side to side like he used to do when Tommy had gotten hurt as a little kid, nearly inconsolable unless held in the safety of his brother's arms.

Tommy was hit all at once again with the realization that his brother was _back_ . Wilbur was back. Wilbur was here and Tommy was here and Tubbo (who he could see slowly nearing out of the corner of a tear filled eye) was here. He could see Fundy just over Wilbur’s shoulder, beginning to crouch down next to them ( _when had they sat down?_ ). More footsteps from behind signaled Quackity’s approach, and even Eret, someone who Tommy still had mixed feelings about (who didn’t that apply to at this point?), was making their way to the group. And Tommy felt calm. His friends were here, his family was here, and Tommy was calm.

A hand slipped onto Tommy’s shoulder and he tilted his head to the side, seeing Tubbo kneeling next to him, a small but tired smile on his face which Tommy returned. He looked up then, at Wilbur, seeing the man staring down at him, eyes sad but so full of warmth and lacking the madness that had infected them towards the end of exile-

No. It had been there for a while. Long before exile. Had been there before L’Manberg ( _gone it was gone now gonegonegon-_ ) gained independence. Tommy had seen it in the way Wilbur had gotten just a bit more reckless with his strategies. In the way that he began to spend less time with Fundy, his son. And with Tommy. The insanity had been steadily creeping in for a while, waiting for the perfect time to make itself known and when it did, oh boy when it did-

But it didn’t matter now because it was gone, at least for the time being, and Tommy was so damn relieved. If he had the energy, Tommy would have jumped at the thumb suddenly swiping under his eye, clearing away tears he hadn’t even known were falling, but he was so tired. So damn tired.

“It’s okay Toms, you can rest now.” Wilbur must have seen it too. “You look exhausted. Sleep.” Another tear was carefully swept away. “I’ll protect you.”

“Me too, Big Man!” Tubbo popped into his vision again, face blurred from Tommy’s watery eyes. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

A glint of metal in the corner of his eye had his head swiveling to look at Eret, who had stooped down next to the group. “You’re safe here Tommy. I won’t allow anyone in this castle that could hurt you.”

Another hand rested on his other shoulder, blue sleeve just barely in view, and Fundy sat next to Eret, leaning against them. A few more tears escaped against his will, all quickly wiped away, and his eyes slowly slipped shut. He drifted off almost immediately, surrounded and safe. The last thing he was aware of before sleep overtook him was the gentle humming of a familiar tune.

* * *

It was past noon and Tommy still hadn’t woken up. It wasn’t that much of a surprise, really, the kid looked exhausted. He deserved to rest. Both him and Tubbo.

Tommy had been moved into a spare bedroom, one right next to Wilbur’s, Tommy tucked securely under the covers with Tubbo right by his side. Just like he promised. The kid had even declined to come down for lunch, not wanting to leave his friend for any length of time. Not again.

The only thing keeping Wilbur out of the room was his own self-doubt, not wanting to risk overwhelming the boys by having someone who had blown up their home right under their own feet (even if it had happened months ago to the boys, it was still fresh on Wilbur’s mind) hovering over them while they slept. Eret felt much the same, unsure of their standing with the two teens and deciding to keep their distance unless approached. Quackity had left, claiming he had business back in El Rapids but telling them to message him if they needed anything, sending searching glances towards Wilbur on his way out.

That left Fundy, a decidedly mostly neutral party, to appoint himself as the monitor, checking up on Tommy and Tubbo and, currently, bringing Tubbo lunch. An extra plate had been set away for Tommy whenever he awoke.

Fundy slipped into the room the boys were residing in, careful not to make any unnecessary noise. There was a large bump under mounds of blankets on the bed, only slightly moving in time with slow breathing. He approached the lump and set the plate of food on the bedside table, wincing at the clink it made.

“Hello?”

He nearly jumped at the voice, cracking from sleep, and turned back towards the bed, seeing blue eyes squinting at him, no doubt trying to make out his shape in the dark of the room.

“Hey Tubbo.”

Tubbo hummed in response, squirming around to face Fundy, eyes still watching him. “Hi Fundy.”

The fox smiled, though he was sure Tubbo probably couldn’t see it. “You really should eat something.” A tired groan sounded out and Fundy laughed. “You don’t have to leave. I brought the food to you! But you do need to eat. As much as you can anyway. And don’t worry about saving any for Tommy, we’ve already got a plate set for him in the kitchen.”

Another hum and Tubbo was carefully wiggling around to set himself up against the headboard, gently grasping the plate and settling it in his lap. Fundy stared at him for a moment longer, watching shaky hands pick at the food like it was poisoned, and then turned to head out the door.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” He slowly pulled the door closed, stopping as a whisper sounded from the room.

“Fundy?”

“Yeah?”

A pause and Fundy stared down at the door handle in his grasp, not having noticed his own hands shaking ( _why were they shaking?_ ) until now.

“Thank you..”

It was so quiet that Fundy barely heard it, his ears twitching and straining to pick up the sound. And he smiled.

“No problem, Tubbo.” He shut the door and headed back down to the others, feeling just a tiny bit better.

He may have hated L’Manberg by the end of it, had enjoyed watching the nation shatter to pieces and smiled as the first TNT dropped. But he knew that those boys had been just as hurt by everything that had happened as he was. He had fought alongside them for fucks sake. He had seen the way Tommy avoided TNT after the first war, and especially after Manberg. Had seen the way Tubbo would flinch at anything that even sounded like fireworks. The way Tommy had looked at Ghostbur at times, like he was somewhere else entirely. How Tubbo couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror when he was in his suit, familiar and with the beginnings of small horns peeking out of his hair.

Fundy hated it. Not the kids, never those kids. He hated what L’Manberg had done to them, what Dream had done to them. What they all had done to them. They were adults. Tommy and Tubbo were kids. They shouldn't have had to fight in wars, they should’ve been protected. And sure, Fundy had also been a kid during the revolution, but, even with Tommy technically being his uncle (he had always been more like a brother even if Tommy liked to tease him about it sometimes), he was still older than them and should’ve looked out for them better.

_Someone should’ve been looking out for him too._

And, as much as he wished he could, Fundy couldn’t change the past. Couldn’t wipe away the pain that was caused by L’Manberg. But he would damn well do whatever he could to help heal the hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many thoughts on everyone’s characters, they’re all so interesting. I’d like to have individual one shots for all them just to look into the characters and their mindsets, and some of my ideas for them.


	5. after confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy wakes up and Tubbo just wants to keep his friend safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* talk about Wilbur’s death and suicide ideation (maybe, it’s a small thing Tommy says about Wilbur’s death and I’m not really sure if it counts but im putting the warning anyway)

_A meadow- No. Walls. No._

_A flag flying high in the air-_

_“My first decree-”_

_It was burning it was all burning, gone, gone like the air in his lungs._

_He was in a ravine-_

_“Let’s be the bad guys-”_

_No, on a wall-_

_“-selfish!”_

_No, an island._

_“Put your armor-”_

_Eyes watching him. Watching his every move._

_A friend. Enemy. It was an enemy._

_“I will fully kill you.”_

_An arrow through his heart. A sword through his stomach. Explosions under his feet._

_“-and not blown up L’Manberg-”_

_Lava down below, head under the water, a tower of blocks above the clouds._

_“-my L’Manberg-”_

_“-my unfinished symphony-”_

_Falling falling falling falli-_

* * *

  
Tommy woke with a muffled gasp, too used to silencing himself, lest there be anyone around that would use his weakness to their advantage. Despite the nightmare(?) however, he felt more rested than before….before what? Where was he?

His eyes opened slowly, almost glued shut in sleep, and glanced around blearily.

The first thing he became aware of was the shock of blonde hair tucked up under his chin, horns brushing jaw. _Tubbo_. That made sense. On troubling nights filled with bad dreams and worse memories, the two would stay in each other's company, comforting the other or simply being a silent support until they both drifted off into dreamless sleep. That made sense.

What didn’t make sense was the room itself. It was rather big for a bedroom, with cobblestone walls and a nice wood floor. It wasn’t a room that existed in Tommy’s home or in Tubbo’s base in Snowchester. Tommy stared at the far wall, trying to recall how and why he was here, in a room he didn’t recognize with only Tubbo by his side. Having just woken up, the memories were fuzzy and hard to grasp, dangling just out of reach of his sleep addled brain. He should’ve felt more panicked really, but he wasn’t. He felt warm and safe, both too awake to go back to sleep and still too drowsy to get out of bed.

His breathing was slowing, panic from waking fading away in the calm darkness of the room. Tommy felt movement against him, the head that had been laying against his chest shifting back and Tubbo’s hand coming up to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

“Tommy?” He whispered, blinking up at the other boy.

“Tubbo.” Tommy whispered back, both boys smiling weakly. “Where are we?”

“Eret’s castle. Remember?”

Oh. Right.

“Right.”

Wilbur was here. Alivebur. His brother. He had run into his brothers arms after witnessing him arguing with their father and promptly burst into tears and then passed out. Embarrassing.

“Where…” Tommy cleared his throat. “Where is everyone?” _Where is Wilbur?_

“Somewhere downstairs probably. Or they were last time Fundy came in.”

“Fundy?”

“He checked on us a few times and he brought me food.” Tommy’s stomach growled at the mention of it and Tubbo let out a laugh. “Don’t worry, yours is in the kitchen.”

Tommy huffed in response and moved to sit up, forcing Tubbo to shift back a bit and sit up as well. They sat like that for a moment, side by side and shoulder to shoulder, neither seemingly wanting to leave the comfort of the room. Tubbo pressed their shoulders more firmly together, hand tapping out a rhythm on his.

“We don’t have to go down there right now. We can message Fundy to bring your food up here, if you want?”

“I-” _I want to see him. I don’t want to speak to him. I want to go home._ “I think it’s now or never, Big T.”

“Whatever you say, Big Man.” Tubbo patted him on the shoulder and slipped out of the bed, holding out a hand to help Tommy stand as well. He grasped it and stood, anxiety filling him like the water used to fill his lungs when would wake up on that _fucking beach-_

The hand still in his squeezed firmly as Tubbo pulled them out of the room, navigating the hallways with relative ease. Tommy half focused on the fingers threaded through his, half on his breathing, knowing if he didn’t he would go into another panic. He wanted to see Wilbur, he really did, but a part of him was scared, maybe even terrified. The last time Tommy had spoken to Wilbur, not Ghostbur and not counting earlier that day, the man had been fully out of his mind.

He could remember watching Wilbur from little alcoves in the ravine, the man mumbling and pacing and pulling at his hair. He remembered the way Wilbur looked at Tubbo when he asked about the festival, the way he had looked at him the day of, his friend trapped in a box and his brother gripping his arm like a vice, expression blank but eyes holding a raging wildfire. It was, by far, the worst thing about their stay in Pogtopia. Not the cold, or their lack of food (he still had trouble eating potatoes and steak without gagging), or that he couldn’t see any of his friends. No, the worst of Pogtopia had been Tommy being forced to watch his brother, his smart, musical, and caring brother, lose the best parts of himself and succumb to everything he never wanted to be.

The only time Wilbur had truly seemed like himself after the election was when their father had stabbed him through the chest. Tommy had seen the smile on Wilbur’s face from where he had stood, seconds before he watched him bleed out in his dad's arms. And, as fucked up as it was, Tommy had been happy for him in that moment, if only for a few seconds. His brother was hurting and he knew it, he couldn’t stop it, but if dying helped, if it meant Wilbur wouldn’t be in pain, then so be it. It hurt losing him of course, but Tommy had lost him a long time ago. That hadn’t been the Wilbur that he grew up with, that man disappeared the second the results had been read, had been slowly drifting away with each battle, with every loss and every win. Tommy had been losing Wilbur the moment they started selling drugs out of the camarvan.

And now his brother was back from the dead. The question was which brother Tommy was about to face. The one from his childhood that raised him and cared for him in the way Tommy wished their own father would have done. Or the one that was irreparably scarred from the war, the one that sided with a man that was rooting for the downfall of their nation since day one and destroyed it with the press of a button. The way his brother had held him earlier as he broke down had him leaning towards the former, but even in the ravine Wilbur would have moments of lucidity, where Tommy could almost forget that they were exiled and he could indulge in the delusion that they were back home, playing a game that would eventually be over and done with.

Pressure around his hand startled him out of his thoughts and he was shoved forcefully back into reality. Tubbo’s eyes met his, concerned and something else Tommy couldn’t place. They had stopped at the top of the stairs, voices floating out from an opened door on the floor below.

 _Are you ready for this?_ Tubbo’s eyes seemed to ask.

Tommy nodded. _Are you?_

Tubbo squeezed his hand again, silent, and then nodded back.

This time it was Tommy that tugged them forwards, gently pulling Tubbo down the stairs and leading them to the room where it seemed like everyone was gathering. He only paused briefly outside, just out of view of whoever was inside, a last chance for either of them to speak up, to object. Tommy could pick up 3 familiar voices all conversing in hushed tones and slipped wordlessly into the room before he could lose his nerve, Tubbo knocking their shoulders together as he entered. It eased a bit of the tension that had been building in his chest, the screaming nervous thing settling into a gentle buzz.

Fundy was the first to notice them, of course. His ears twitched in their direction and his eyes followed, landing directly on the two boys standing in the entry to the sitting room. “Tubbo! Tommy!” He almost leapt up from his seat but stopped short, not wanting to startle the boys.

Two other heads whipped around in their direction but Tommy kept his focus on Fundy. _He could do this_ , he thought, _just take it one at a time_.

“Fundy! My friend!” He smiled wide and full of teeth, sharp and fake. Fundy didn’t comment on it and chuckled at the altered voice.

Tubbo smiled too, a bit more sincere than Tommy’s. “Hello Fundy! Thanks again for the food earlier.”

“Of course, man. No problem at all.”

“That’s why we came down here, actually.” Tommy thanked whatever Minecraft gods that Tubbo existed and was carrying on this conversation, because Tommy definitely couldn’t handle it right now. “Tommy was pretty hungry when he woke up so we came to get his food.”

Fundy’s eyes lit up in understanding, shooting a quick glance to Eret and Wilbur, and stood. “Right, right. I’ll show you where it is.” He walked over to the boys, waving at them to follow as he stepped out of the room. Tommy went to do just that but paused at another squeeze of his hand. He turned back around to look at Tubbo, another silent conversation occurring between them.

_Will you be okay if I stay?_

_Will you be okay with them?_

_Yes._

_Then yes._

And Tommy slipped his hand out of Tubbo’s and followed Fundy out of the room.

* * *

  
And Tubbo was left with Eret and Wilbur, both of whom he could feel staring at the back of his head. His palms felt clammy and his chest tightened, distant sounds of TNT echoing in his head, but he pushed it off. He couldn’t do this now, he refused.

“Tubbo?” Eret called softly, “Is everything alright?”

Tubbo breathed in deeply and elected to ignore the question all together. “What’s your goal with this?”

“My...what? What are you talking about?” Their tone stayed the same as before, a faint confusion shining through.

“Your goal.” Tubbo repeated, finally turning to look at the Royal. He could see Wilbur sitting just past them, away from the couch and in a comfy looking chair, the ex-presidents eyes also shining in question. “Why are you letting Wilbur stay in your castle? Why are you being so nice to Tommy and I?”

“Well-”

“We’re not friends.” Tubbo interrupted and pointedly ignored the winces from the other two occupants. “So why?”

Eret was quiet, staring down at their hands. “Tubbo, I-“ They paused and Tubbo tensed as they raised one of their hands, causing Eret to freeze for a moment before they lowered it back into their lap. “Tubbo, I don’t- I don’t want any payment for this or any favors. I just want you all to be safe. I want to help you.”

“But _why_?” That didn’t make any sense. “There has to be a reason! You can’t possibly want to help for no reason.”

“Tubbo what are you-” Wilbur started to say, voice overlapping with Eret’s.

“My “reason” is that I want to hel-”

“ _Bullshit!_ ” Everything went quiet. That’s not how it worked. Eret had to be plotting something. They wanted something and it would make it so much easier if they would just _tell him_.

“I don’t understand.” Eret was standing now, brows furrowed in an emotion Tubbo couldn’t place, but he could guess it wasn’t anything positive. Wilbur was leaning forward in his chair, looking at Tubbo like he wanted to- to what? Talk to him? Comfort him? Tubbo was glad Wilbur didn’t act on whatever it was because he wasn’t sure if he could handle it at this time.

He let out a shaky breath, hands clenched at his sides. “You have to be doing this for something-”

Eret took a small step towards him. “Why? Why can’t I just help because I want to? Why must there be a reason?”

“Because that’s how it works!” Tubbo snapped.

“Tubbo?” Wilbur was standing as well now.

“Dream gave L’Manberg independence in exchange for the discs. Technoblade joined us during Pogtopia because he wanted to disband the government. Eret betrayed us because Dream offered him a position as King.” The Royal winced at the reminder. “Everyone does something for a reason, that’s just how it works. So tell me why you’re doing this so I can-”

Warm arms wrapped around him and his head was tucked up against the person's chest. Tubbo struggled against it but he was still so tired and the hug was so _nice_ , and he leaned into it after a moment.

“ _Please_ , just tell me what you want.”

A hand came up to smooth down his hair, fingers brushing against stubby horns and catching on knots that Tubbo hadn’t had the time or motivation to comb out yet, and rested at the base of his head. The other hand settled on his shoulder to gently pull him back, and Tubbo almost whined at the loss while his eyes locked onto his own face reflected back at him through Eret’s sunglasses and- _fuck_ , he looked awful. Wilbur was standing behind Eret now, a pained look on his face.

“Ok Tubbo.” Eret brushed Tubbo’s bangs out of his eyes as they spoke. “What I want from this-” Tubbo held his breath as Eret moved to pull off their sunglasses, pure white eyes watching him. “-is your forgiveness.”

 _That couldn’t…_ “What?”

“It doesn’t have to be today.” The Royal continued. “It doesn’t have to be tomorrow. It could even be years from now. That’s all up to you and Tommy, ok? But Tubbo- and please listen very carefully- nothing I do will ever be because I want you to owe me something. In fact, I owe both you and Tommy an apology.”

Tubbo’s breath hitched in his throat, and he choked down what was surely a sob. “For what?”

“For betraying your trust, for siding with Dream, and for so many other things.” Eret retracted their hands and took a step back, dropping to one knee with their head bowed. Tubbo just watched, wide eyed, as the Royal looked up at him, a hand clenched against their raised knee. “Tubbo, I am so sorry for every single thing I’ve done to hurt you. I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t be given kindness without having to give up something in return. And I am so, so sorry that I didn’t step up and help you and Tommy sooner. You both were hurting and put in positions you should never have been in. You’ve been hurt and stressed and manipulated and I should have done more to help you. You’re both kids and myself and the other adults on this server need to remember that and do better.”

A sniffle broke through the silence after Eret’s apology and Tubbo collapsed, face in his hands and crying harder than he had in awhile. He wasn’t sure why but Eret’s words had taken a huge weight off of his chest, it didn’t fix it but it was something. A hand brushed through his bangs and Tubbo snuck a glance at Eret through his fingers, still without their sunglasses. Another hand settled on his shoulder, and Tubbo could see a tan sweater out of the corner of his eye.

“I need to apologize as well.” Tubbo didn’t look at the man but quickly nodded to show he was listening, and Wilbur gently squeezed his shoulder in response.

“I shouldn’t have let the presidency be passed to you.” Tubbo whipped his head up at that, eyes turned to look at Wilbur and was surprised to see unreleased tears in his eyes. “And I don’t mean that in the way you might think. I don’t remember too much from my time as Ghostbur, but I remember he was proud of you. Of what you were doing to help rebuild L’Manberg.” Wilbur’s brow furrowed and he moved his hand up to swipe away some of the tears from Tubbo’s face. “But you shouldn’t have had to do that in the first place. You should’ve been off with Tommy being a kid, not stressing over governing a country that got fucked up on your first day on the job. And I know I wasn’t in my right mind for a lot of it, but that doesn’t excuse the things I did, the things I allowed to happen. Tubbo I’m so sorry.” A tear slipped down Wilbur’s cheek but he didn’t bother to wipe it away. “I’m sorry for how I acted in Pogtopia and for every awful thing I said to you then. I’m sorry for not stopping Technoblade at the festival and I’m sorry for ever dragging you into any wars in the first place. I’d say I’m sorry for detonating the TNT but I’m not really sure if I am. However, I am sorry that you had to deal with that again. I know how much it hurt the first time ‘round, and I regret causing you and Tommy so much pain over a plot of land. And I don’t expect forgiveness from this, I understand if you don’t ever forgive me, but you deserve an apology.”

Tubbo didn’t respond but he did lean into the hand still on his cheek and the one in his hair. It was going to take some time to fully forgive them, he knew this, but Tubbo wanted to. He wanted everything to be alright again, for all his friends to be together again. And the apologies didn’t fix everything, but it was a damn good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Wilbur will finally talk a bit next chapter I swear but Tubbo deserves some closure too
> 
> Also how are we feeling about Ranboo and Wednesday because I am STRESSED


	6. in repentance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has cried a lot today and would really appreciate it if people could stop making him cry more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* some slight dissociation in the first few paragraphs [its not super detailed but it ends when you see Fundy’s name italicized if you want to skip it], talk about Dreams manipulations, and talk about death
> 
> This isn’t 100% but I’m gonna try for one more chapter after this, idk depends on how it goes writing it. But even if it is I might make other one shots that go along with this story if that would interest anyone?

The kitchen, just like the rest of the castle, was big. Far too big for one, or even two, to live in without the dark cloud of loneliness creeping in and suffocating one's thoughts. At least Tommy thought so.

He stood in the middle of the room as Fundy bustled around, grabbing the leftovers to heat up as well as some silverware. Tommy felt… oddly numb. Maybe the adrenaline from the nightmare had worn off or maybe all the shit that Tommy had gone through was finally catching up to him and he couldn’t process it. Either way, it left him feeling like his head was stuffed with wool and all the sounds in the room were muffled. Was he sick? He couldn’t remember the last time he was. Had it been like this?

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, a hand putting a plate down on the kitchen island. Tommy didn’t bother to move. His limbs felt like he was submerged in water, and any move he made would take so much more effort and energy than just standing in the torrent and letting it take him away. Something was in his vision now, a red-orange blur, and a hand grasped his upper arm. It was grounding in a way, something to help pull him back from the flood, but it made his skin itch. He blinked, and the haze began to clear.

_Fundy_. Right.

“Did you get the food?” Tommy asked. _He sounded like shit._

Fundy startled at the sudden shift, worry lining every inch of his face and ears drooping, but nodded and gestured Tommy towards the plate. “It’s pasta and chicken, I hope that’s alright.”

“I think I’ll eat anything at this point.” Tommy could finally force his body to move towards the food. He quickly picked up the fork and dug in, huffing out a half laugh to himself. “As long as its not fucking potatoes.”

Fundy chuckled but even Tommy could tell it was strained. It was quiet as Tommy ate, being careful not to shovel it into his mouth too quickly. He knew from experience that it would just end up onto the floor or in the nearest trash can if he did that after not eating a decent meal in so long. The food was great, better than anything Tommy had eaten in a while and he soon found himself with an empty plate which was quickly whisked away by Fundy and he watched as it was deposited into the sink.

Tommy coughed awkwardly and Fundy’s ears twitched at the noise. “Thanks for… for the food.”

If the fox was surprised by the sincerity he didn’t show it, shooting a grin back in response. “It’s nothing, I just heated it up really. Eret’s the one who made it. They’re a better cook than I am but I’m getting there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” Fundy seemingly perked up at the chance to boast about his newfound skill. “Eret’s been teaching me! I’m learning a lot and I’ve even managed a few of the more complicated dishes without completely fucking it up, y’know?” He chuckled and was delighted when Tommy responded in kind with his own, albeit quieter than it normally would be.

“Are they-” Tommy hesitated, staring off just to the side of Fundy’s head. “Are they good? Eret, I mean.” He could see the confusion on Fundy’s face but refused to elaborate.

“I- yeah, I guess. They’ve been fine, just a little frazzled from Wilbur being-”

“No.” He interrupted. “I meant…” _Are they still working with Dream? Are they planning something? Are they going to lead me to my death again?_ “Are they trustworthy?” Tommy finally locked eyes with Fundy, scared and looking so very much like the child he was. He didn’t want to be hurt anymore and Fundy…

Fundy could sympathize.

He came around to stand in front of Tommy, keeping a bit of distance to not overwhelm him, and fidgeted with his hands. When he spoke next it was a quiet thing, hushed but genuine.

“I think they are. They’ve been very kind to me since Dad-” Fundy’s breath caught in his throat. Even with his father standing alive and well in another room of the castle, it was still hard to talk about. “You know. They’ve been nothing but helpful and nice. And they feel awful about the betrayal- They do.” Fundy insisted at Tommy’s doubtful look. “I’m sure they’ll tell you themself when you two get a chance to talk. Eret’s been so damn happy to have Wilbur here, especially since they seem to be getting along better, and I’m sure they feel the same about you and Tubbo. So please, give them a chance to at least talk with you. I know you’re still angry about the control room-” He didn’t notice Tommy tense at the words. “-and I am too sometimes but just give it a shot. You don’t have to forgive them or anything but hear them out, at least.”

Fundy was prepared for the refusal, for the defensive, angry words to come flying out of Tommy’s mouth. He was ready to rebuttal again and again until Tommy was willing to talk. But none of those happened. In fact, Tommy spoke so quietly, that Fundy was certain the only reason he detected it was because of his inhuman hearing.

“I’m not.”

“Not…?”

“Mad. I’m not mad.” Tommy ducked his head at Fundy’s incredulous look. “I’m not! Not anymore, anyway.” He sucked in a breath, lungs spasming as he tried to shove down his panic at the mere mention of the event. He was in the castle, not underground. There were no openings in the walls and there wasn’t a sword through his abdomen. “It was-” Another breath. “It was terrifying. Genuinely. It was like a nightmare- _is_ my nightmare, sometimes. I just don’t want to be hurt again, Fundy. I don’t want to go through thinking someone actually gives a shit about me just for them to turn around and work with Dre-” He choked. “With _him_. It’s happened so many times, Fundy. I can’t do it again. I won’t.” _He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it._

“ _Tommy_.” Fundy’s voice broke through his thoughts and Tommy curled in on himself at the hurt tone, refusing to acknowledge the fox. “Tommy, please look at me, man.” _He didn’t want to._ Fundy sighed at the lack of response. “Ok, ok. That’s fine. Just listen to me then.” A hesitant nod from the boy and Fundy relaxed just a little bit. “Thank you.”

Fundy allowed himself a moment to collect his thoughts. There were so many things he wanted to say but he knew the others were waiting for them, so those things could wait. Most of them, anyway. Not this, though.

“You know you’re like a brother to me, right?”

Tommy jolted at that but still didn’t look up. It wasn’t the first time Fundy had said something like that to him, but it was certainly unexpected.

“I know, technically speaking, you’re supposed to be my uncle because Wilbur is my dad and all but… I always considered you my little brother. And-” Fundy halted, watching as Tommy seemed to fold more and more into himself, the boy's arms wrapped around himself in a protective hold. It was heartbreaking and Fundy wanted nothing more than to pull the boy into his arms and shield him from whatever the hell had made Tommy...like that. He wasn’t sure if Tommy would welcome any kind of comfort from him though and squashed the urge down. “And I am so sorry that I didn’t visit you in exile, I really am. We’re family, Tommy, and I know I’ve been a pretty shit one lately, but I want to help you.” He hesitantly reached out a hand and, when Tommy didn’t pull away, gently placed it on the kids shoulder. Fundy was pleasantly surprised when Tommy leaned into the touch, tear-filled eyes looked up at him through long, tangled hair. _When was the last time this kid had a haircut?_

The thought was shoved away and Fundy used his other hand to brush away the bangs so he could look Tommy in the eye. “I swear to you, Tommy, I won’t let anyone send you away. Not alone, anyway. If you go, so will I, and I bet Wilbur would too. You’re not gonna be alone again, Toms.” There it was. The nickname that only Tommy’s family ever used. It’s usage had become a sporadic thing to hear during his time on the SMP, Wilbur having used it the most, Ghostbur less, and the nickname rarely ever falling from Fundy’s mouth. It made warmth spread through his chest and the tears that had been collecting on his lashes slipped down his face. He sniffled and jerked out of Fundy’s hold, startling the fox, just to slam straight into the man's chest, arms locking around his torso and tiredly crying into Fundy’s shoulder. He’d been doing a lot of that the past few days.

A hand brushed through his hair and Tommy slowly relaxed, the tension leaving his shoulders and his tears drying just as quick as they appeared. Fundy was family, and he was right, he was like a brother to Tommy. And Tommy wanted to trust him, to trust that he would protect him and stick to his word. He really hoped he wouldn’t get fucked over again.

Fundy hummed to himself when he registered Tommy’s relaxed state, and pulled him back just enough to see Tommy’s face. He took a moment to move Tommy’s fringe out of his face again and was quiet for a few seconds.

“I’m gonna fuck Dream up.”

The sudden declaration startled a laugh out of Tommy. The normal, loud, and nearly scream-like laughter that was expected out of the boy. Fundy grinned but quickly covered it up with playful indignation. “What! I am! I’m gonna punch him right in the middle of his stupid mask.”

They both lost it at that, any words dissolving into snorting and wheezing. Eventually it tapered off until only a few giggles escaped the pair.

Tommy let out a final wheeze and wiped away any remaining tears. “His mask is pretty fucking dumb.”

Fundy hummed in agreement and looked towards the entrance to the kitchen. “Are you ready to talk to Wilbur?” When Tommy froze at the sudden change of topic, Fundy was quick to reassure him. “Or we can chill out here a little bit more. It’s up to you.”

“No that’s-” Tommy shook his head. “That’s okay. I need to talk to him. I _want_ to talk to him. We can go back now.”

Fundy clapped a hand on his back and headed to the door, knowing Tommy would follow.

* * *

  
When they arrived back to the sitting room, they found Wilbur and Tubbo sitting on the long couch, with Eret off to the side in the armchair that Tommy was sure Wilbur had been occupying when he had left. They seemed to be deep in conversation, Tubbo excitedly waving his hands around as he told them about Snowchester, but quickly fell silent as Fundy and Tommy entered the room.

Eret was the first to break the silence, shooting Tommy a soft smile from their position. “Hey! How was the food? There’s plenty of other things if you don’t like the pasta. I can-”

Tommy was quick to cut off the Royal’s nervous ramblings. “No! No, it was fine. The food was good.” He locked eyes through Eret’s sunglasses before quickly flicking them up to rest on their crown. “Fundy said you cooked it?”

“I- Yes I did.”

Tommy nodded to himself. “It was… it was good.”

“Good!”

They trailed off in an awkward silence, both unsure of how to interact with the other. Thankfully, Tubbo was there to intervene again.

“Well!” Tubbo started cheerfully, standing up from the couch and clasping his hands together. All eyes swiveled to him and he smiled. “Now that the most awkward conversation I’ve ever seen is over with.” He pointedly ignored Tommy’s shout of protest. “I think Tommy and Wilbur need to have a chat.” Tommy’s eyes met Tubbo’s and something seemed to pass between them as the mood in the room took a somber turn.

“Right.” Eret agreed and stood as well, already moving towards the door to stand with Fundy. “You two can use this room, we’ll be waiting in the throne room. If you need anything,-” They paused and looked at Wilbur and then Tommy in turn. “-anything at all, please send a message or just yell.”

With a thumbs up from Fundy, they both swiftly exited the room. Tubbo sent one last glance at Tommy, who sent him a shaky smile in return, and took his exit as well, leaving just Wilbur and Tommy in the sitting room.

Wilbur remained seated on the couch, elbows on his knees and fingers laced together in front of his mouth. Tommy stayed standing near the now closed door, eyes shooting around to different points in the room before finally settling on his brother.

“Nice hair.” Tommy choked out, nervous but never one to pass up on teasing remarks.

Wilbur chuckled and blew some of his fringe out of his face, a notable white strip flying up into the air and settling back into his face. He gave Tommy a lazy smirk, eyeing his almost chin length hair, and Tommy almost instantly looked away. “Right back at you.”

“In my defence, I didn’t exactly have scissors in exile.” Wilbur’s smile dropped at that. “And I definitely wasn’t about to chop at it with a sword. You have no excuse though. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of dye around somewhere.”

“I quite like it the way it is, I think.” Wilbur responded with an odd tone of voice.

“Yeah? I think it makes you look like a skunk.”

A startled laugh made Tommy glance back at his brother, seeing him with a genuine, but strained, smile. He let out a laugh of his own and suddenly it was just like his interaction with Fundy in the kitchen. Both laughing at a stupid joke that hadn’t even been that funny in the first place. Eventually they calmed and Wilbur was looking at Tommy, expression soft and head tilted in a way that meant he had something on his mind.

“I have a lot of shit I need to apologize for.”

Tommy barked out a harsh laugh. He could already feel his eyes stinging but he refused to cry anymore today. “Yeah...Yeah, you do.”

“Come sit with me?” Wilbur called and patted at a spot on the couch.

Tommy stared at it for a second, and slowly made his way over and sat. He wrapped his arms tight around his torso, shrinking in on himself and trying to take up as little room as possible. It broke Wilbur’s heart. His brother wasn’t supposed to be so timid and small, he was supposed to be loud and confident and angry at Wilbur. Not hunching in on himself like he was expecting some kind of attack. It made him want to break something.

“So…” Tommy trailed off, uncertain.

“So?”

“Where do we start with this?”

Wilbur laced his hands again, fidgeting with them. “I think we should start with the revolution.” He could see Tommy furrow his brow out of the corner of his eye, mouth open to ask a question but nothing coming out. “I shouldn’t have drug you into a war like that.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything!” Tommy protested. It had been Tommy’s choice. Of course he was going to fight, no matter what Wilbur said. He would have followed his brother to the ends of the earth. He told Wilbur as much.

“That’s exactly it, Tommy. I started that war and I put you in that position. I knew you would want to fight so I didn’t argue with you, but I should have. There's no good excuse for allowing children to fight in a war.”

“I’m not a child!”

“Yes you are!” Wilbur snapped. “You’re sixteen, for fucks sake!” His brother shrunk back a bit at the yelling and Wilbur winced, taking a deep breath. “You’re sixteen,” he murmured, “you’re a kid. And that’s not a bad thing. You don’t have to keep insisting you're not a kid because you’re allowed to be one, Tommy. You’re allowed to be young, and childish, and you shouldn’t be shamed for making mistakes because that’s what kids _do_.”

“Dream doesn’t seem to think so.”

And _fuck_ , there was that urge to break something again. When Wilbur next saw that masked bastard, he would take great pleasure in running him through with a sword.

“ _Dream_ ,” Wilbur spat the name out like a curse, “can go to hell for all I care. He wants to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong and then act like he hasn’t been orchestrating everything from behind the scenes. He’s in the wrong in this, Tommy, not you.”

“But I burned down George’s house…”

“Did you mean to burn it down?”

Tommy ducked his head, staring at his shoes. “Well, no. But-”

“So it was an accident.” Tommy remained silent, and Wilbur softened, fight draining out of him. “Accidents happen, Toms. Your own base has been griefed so many damn times, _on purpose_ even. You fucked up, yeah, but it was fixable. You didn’t deserve to be exiled, Tommy.”

“But I had to learn my lesson. That’s what Dream said.” Tommy’s shoulders shook as he spoke, unable to fully accept what Wilbur was telling him.

“What was it?”

Tommy whipped his head up to look at Wilbur. “What?”

“What was the lesson?” Wilbur steadily held his gaze, eyes scanning his face. “What were you supposed to learn that could only be taught by exiling you?”

And Tommy… Tommy didn’t know. There were a few things he had learned through exile ( _Dream wasn’t his friend. Dream was just there to watch him. Dream was scared of him. He was scared of Dream. He was so alone._ ), but Tommy had a feeling those weren’t the answers Wilbur was looking for. He didn’t respond.

Wilbur let out a breath and reached out a hand, hesitating, and brushing it through Tommy’s hair when the boy didn’t move away. He smiled when his brother leaned into the touch, thumbing over the hairline.

“You didn’t deserve that, Toms. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. And that’s my own fault, I know.”

“Ghostbur was there.” Tommy interjected softly and Wilbur hummed in acknowledgement, urging him to continue. “He helped me out a lot in the beginning, before Dre- before he was sent off.”

“Good. I’m happy you had someone there.” Wilbur watched as Tommy closed his eyes, still leaning into his hand. It reminded him of when Tommy would get sick as a child and Wilbur would spend almost every moment by his side, carding a hand through messy hair and doing his best to comfort his kid brother while their dad was away. He wished things were that simple again. Wished they were back home where Wilbur knew he could protect him. Here was uncertain and terrifying and he had already failed Tommy so many times. His one remaining life was enough proof of that.

“I’m so sorry, Tommy.” Watery blue eyes stared up at him and Wilbur swallowed harshly. “I’m sorry I drug you through a war- _two wars_. I’m sorry for what a shit brother I was in Pogtopia, I didn’t mean anything I said there. I was spiraling and losing my mind and I took it out on everything and everyone around me and you didn’t deserve that, Tommy. I didn’t mean any of it. I’m sorry I fucked you over and then just left you to deal with the aftermath. I’m sorry for not being there to protect you from Dream and his stupid plans. And I’m so, so sorry it took me so long to come back to you, Toms.” Wilbur brought both hands to cup Tommy’s face, aware of the fact that they were both holding back tears. “You’re my brother, my family, and I should’ve never left you in the first place. I’m sorry.”

A sniffle was the only response, followed quickly by a sob, and suddenly Wilbur had an armful of crying teenager. He wrapped his arms around Tommy, practically pulling him into lap, and listened as the boy quietly spat out curses to himself.

“Shit. Fuck. I was trying not to cry again today, Wil, and you ruined it.” Tommy hiccuped and smacked Wilbur’s arm when the man just chuckled through his own tears. “Don’t laugh at me, dickhead. You’re crying too.” Wilbur just hummed and buried his face in Tommy’s hair, and Tommy relaxed against him. He gripped the sleeve of Wilbur’s new sweater and shoved his face into his brother's shoulder.

“I missed you, Wilby.”

Wilbur squeezed him even tighter and choked back another sob.

“I missed you too, Toms.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! The end of the disc war was today and I can’t handle it! :)  
> I only caught the tail end of it and WHAT THE FUCK WILBUR
> 
> ALSO c!Phil, c!Niki, and c!Jack are all pissing me off and I’m deadass 👌 THIS CLOSE to making another story to add on to this one where Wilbur goes and beats Phil’s ass and adopts Ranboo  
>   
> GHLATT


	7. in resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nice things only last for so long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no warning for this chapter but it is very short because I’m not great at endings. And this may be the end of the main story but I do plan on making other short stories or maybe other multi-chapter fics to go with this, as well as other fics that have nothing to do with this one.

Having Wilbur back was strange.

He wasn’t the same Wilbur that Tommy had grown up with, not fully. But, _fuck_ , had he missed his brother. And it showed in the early morning talks over making breakfast. The lasting hugs where it seemed like neither of the brothers wanted to let go. The post-nightmare comfort that usually ended in some form of a slumber party (these would often include Tubbo as well, who had gotten used to waking up at Tommy’s nightmares or being woken up by Tommy from his own).

Staying with Eret was weird too, after having had a lengthy conversation that had ended rather well. Both Eret and Tubbo had offered him permanent residence and, as much as Tommy loved Tubbo like a brother, he had never been a big fan of the cold. And Tommy wouldn’t exactly say he lived with the Royal either, he was a big man and had his own house after all, but he had started to hang around more and more. So had Tubbo, for that matter. Eret had even designated two bedrooms specifically for the boys, claiming that the rooms were rarely ever used anyway.

Fundy was another interesting addition to their newfound routine. It had become somewhat expected for there to be at least one prank to occur when all three boys were around. Pranks ranging from small ones like books or quills temporarily going missing or moving, to the use of invisibility pots and redstone to create elaborate and annoying, but overall harmless, contraptions.

Tommy, with his limited knowledge on the subject, was pretty sure this was what it felt like to have a family that cared. That didn’t leave without so much as goodbye, or actually wondered after his well-being and health. He had only had Wilbur for a while, and then Wilbur and Tubbo, and then just Tubbo, and then no one. Tubbo had been in a similar position, having gone from no one to a select few and then no one again. Now they had more. They were together and they were being cared for like a family should.

It was the most at peace Tommy and Tubbo had felt in a long time.

Up until Tommy had visited his house one afternoon, just to see it in shambles with a note from a certain masked admin. Tommy, in his haste to see his brother, and the calming days that followed, had nearly forgotten about the discs. And it was all suddenly crashing back down on him like an anvil. The stress, and the pressure, and the anxiety. There was so much he had to do. He had to prepare. He had to get Tubbo and they had to prepare.

_They were so fucking screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so what if, after following Punz out of the portal, Wilbur had grabbed his two idiot boys and held them close to his chest and far, far away from Dream.  
>   
> And so what if Eret had stood directly by Tommy’s side during his speech to Dream, glaring at the man that had given them their title.  
>   
> And so what if Fundy had marched up to Dream, before he was whisked away by Sam, and punched him hard enough that shards of a familiar mask scattered across the floor like glass.  
>   
> So what if they protected their boys? That was their business, and no one else’s. Those boys deserved the world, Minecraft gods and server admins be damned.


End file.
